


Hiding

by Your_Friendly_Neighborhood_Pigeon



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Minor Character Death, Peter cares about the people around him, idk what this is exactly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 21:37:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11540898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Your_Friendly_Neighborhood_Pigeon/pseuds/Your_Friendly_Neighborhood_Pigeon
Summary: Five times Peter Parker refuses to show his emotions in front of others, and the one time he allows himself to do so.





	Hiding

**Author's Note:**

> After reading some comics then seeing spiderman homecoming then reading some fanfics I decided to try and write some superhero stuff?? I've never written for these characters, so I hope I did okay.  
> Also this isn't exactly canon...but it is also following canon loosely...but yeah this was me mostly practicing writing for them? Through angst? If that makes sense.

He's five years old when his parents leave. The words _‘we'll be back’_ echo violently in his head for weeks once they walk out the front door of his aunt and uncle’s house.

He's young, so no one can blame him for not fully understanding. For the first month, uncle Ben and aunt May walk on eggshells around him.

Time seems to stand still in the following months. He thinks he sleeps and eats, but everything blurs together. He isn't sure what day is it, but suddenly his aunt is there.

“Peter, sweetie,” aunt May says gently, kneeling by his bed. She offers a small, kind smile, and it reminds him of his mother before they left, of how she pulled him into a hug and gave him a smile just like the one his aunt is giving him now. “If you want to talk to anyone, just know--”

“I'm fine,” Peter blurts out, startling the both of them. He hasn't spoken so boldly in such a long time.

“Peter,” May says softly. “It's okay if you're not, you know? You're young...you...you don't have to be okay.”

Peter blinks at her, brown eyes scanning her face. She looks sad. Defeated, almost. It doesn't take long for him to realize it's because of _him_ that she feels this way. He can piece it all together, especially since he's heard them speaking in soft voices in the kitchen late at night.

He may be young, but he's smart. He knows what he has to do.

“Peter,” May says again, scooting closer so her knees slip under the bed, elbows resting on the mattress. “Ben and I thought we could take you out, you know, since it's your birthday…?”

Peter blinks. He forgot that was today. instantly, he wants to ask if his parents will be there. But he knows the answer to that, and he doesn't want to upset her more than he already has.

Forcing down the grief and sorrow and guilt, Peter faces his aunt with wide, blinding smile. May looks a little shocked, but she smiles back.

“Can we get ice cream?”

May chuckles, lifting her hand so she can tuck some of his long hair behind his ear. A haircut could be seen in the foreseeable future. “Of course we can, Peter,” she mumbles, and for the first time since he's arrived she looks relieved.

 

* * *

 

Aunt May is a sobbing mess. She tries to keep it together, but every time she starts to speak, violent sobs shake her whole body. Peter can't blame her.

She's a mess, and she’s hanging on by a thin thread, but even then she tries to be there for Peter. She sits by him in the hospital, clinging to his hand so hard her knuckles turn white. She sits by him during the funeral, her face buried in her hands, crying as they bury uncle Ben.

He's ten years old, and aunt May tells him, voice shaking, that a boy his age doesn't deserve so much tragedy. That no one does. She tells him through her tears that he’s allowed to cry, that no one would blame him, that crying is a good thing.

Yet, still, he refuses to let her see him break. He becomes her rock instead.

A week after the funeral, he trudges in after a long day of school, stopping short as he sees his aunt standing in the kitchen, blankly staring at nothing. Her hair’s a mess, dark rings under her eyes. He wants to cry right then and there, because his aunt is such a good person. She doesn't deserve this.

She turns at the sound of the door closing, jumping as her eyes land on Peter. “You're home earl--’ she cuts herself off as she sees the time. “Oh.”

Peter holds back the wave of undescribable agony and steps forward, wrapping his thin arms around May. “It's okay, aunt May, you'll be okay.”

She stifles a sob, arms coming up to hug him tight. Through her tears, she chokes out, “you'll be okay as well, Peter. You're allowed to grieve, don't forget that.”

At night, when he knows she can't hear him, he lets himself grieve.

 

* * *

 

He's fifteen years old and thrown into a new world. A field trip to Oscorp, a bite from a seemingly normal but not really normal spider because It's radioactive, and his world turns upside down.

He clutches his stomach, glad that the field trip landed on a Friday. Fumbling for his phone, he squints as he pulls up Ned’s number, swiftly typing a message with his shaky hands, apologizing that he won't be able to come over later. Ned instantly replies, telling him that he better be better by Monday or else.

Peter simply chuckles, groaning a moment later. It's hot. Then it's too cold, and _god,_ he hates being sick. It's the worst thing in the world.

Saturday passes with pain and fever, aunt May making him some soup and forcing water down his throat. Sunday rolls around, and he feels a small kiss to his cheek, May promising him she'll be back as soon as possible.

An hour after she leaves, he feels better. Sitting up in bed, his blanket falls from his shoulders and lands behind him. It's a bit odd, how he feels…completely better so quickly.

Reaching out, he grabs the cup sitting by his desk and tilts his head back, gulping it down. When he goes to set the glass down, it sticks to his hand.

“What the…” he mutters, shaking his hand up and down. The cup doesn't budge.

Stumbling out of his bed, he curses as the sheet on his bed sticks to his other hand. His left foot is glued to the carpet, his right one clinging to a sweater he left on the ground.

He has no idea what to do.

Panic builds up in his throat, his heart pounding. Somehow, through his shaky breathing, he gets himself unstuck.

He's terrified. His whole body shakes with anxiety, eyes wide, mind trying to wrap around what just went down. Before he can sink to the ground and properly freak out, the front door opens.

“I'm home!” May calls, her voice unusually loud. So loud it kind of hurts-- and now that he stops to take in his surroundings, he realizes _everything_ is too loud. He can hear people from the sidewalk outside his window, a dog barking down the street, a baby wailing.

Everything is so _loud_ and he can feel tears welling up in his eyes and  he wants to turn the world off and--

“Peter, you're up? How're you feeling?”

Peter takes a deep breath, trying to keep his face neutral. Aunt May doesn't need to worry too much about him, especially when he has no idea what's happening either.

Plastering a small smile to his face, he pushes away his fear and uncertainty, making a grabby motion towards the bag in May’s hand. “Is that Thai food for me?”

 

* * *

 

He can't complain too much about life anymore. Tony Stark is basically his mentor, his best friend knows his secret and is keeping it, and he has a wicked new suit.

Until that's taken away.

However, a little hiccup like that won't stop him. He doesn't recall ever being one to back down, even if he knows it's dangerous. Sure, the vulture isn't…life threatening. The whole world isn't at stake, but...those weapons he’s stealing could lead to something much worse. Peter can't sit back let this happen.

And, hey, he _tried_ to warn them. They chose not to listen, so obviously it has to be up to him.

That's how, on the night of homecoming, he finds himself in that abandoned warehouse. With as much confidence as he can muster up, he faces his enemy.

It doesn't end good, and, well, he shouldn't be surprised. Nothing in his life really goes the way he wishes it would. Within moments, there's thousands of pounds of ceiling and concrete pinning him to the ground.

He feels every nerve in his body spark to life with restless, nervous energy. His mask starts to suffocate him, so he yanks it off, greedily inhaling mouthfuls of oxygen.

It's mostly a blur, his screaming for help and crying out. A bitter laugh sneaks it's way in toward the end. He brought this on himself in a way, didn't he? He was told to stay out of the way, told to keep low and to leave well enough alone.

Then, as black dots invade his vision, he remembers what's _actually_ happening. He can't let himself die. He can't let the vulture get to that plane. Even if Tony is the one who took his suit away, Peter still wants to help him. Who needs the suit anyway, right? He lasted for the first month with his own homemade one, the one he’s wearing right now. He could stop crime then, and he can do it now.

Without much more thought, Peter lifts his arms up, his whole body trembling. His teeth grind together, body screaming with agony as he lifts more and more.

He’s Peter Parker. Spider-man. He can do this.

And he does.

 

The next part of his plan blurs together with everything else. Mostly because he never really had a set plan. All he had was get on the plane and stop Vulture. How he did that was all made up on the spot.

The plane crashing into the beach, getting tossed around like some ragdoll, and then saving the Vulture in the end all were pretty much impulsive. Tying him up and leaving a note for Happy and Tony was his own cheekiness showing.

 

By the time he gets home, he's a wreck. His breathing comes in fast, tiny huffs, his hand coming up to grab a fistful of fabric by his heart. Placing a hand to the wall, he sinks down and tries to keep himself from hyperventilating.

He could've died...he could've... _holy shit._ He can't believe he just did that.

His thoughts are cut off by a loud ringing. Jumping in surprise, he turns over in his bed, stumbling to grab his phone.

“Calm down, Peter, calm down,” he hisses, squinting at the bright light. Ned. No surprise. “If you don't answer, he'll worry,” Peter reasons with himself, taking another deep breath.

Swiping the answer button, he clears his throat. “Hey, Ned.”

“Oh my god, Peter! I just saw the news and-- _oh my god!_ That's so badass! You took down a friggen plane! Oh my _god!_ Peter, you have to tell me everything-- are you okay?”

Peter takes a moment to answer, willing his voice to not betray him. “I'm fine, Ned, thank you so much for your help, but is it okay if I get back to you? I...still have to take care of some things.”

“Of course, yeah, but you better have a good story!” Ned chuckles, and Peter offers up a convincing laugh back.

“Bye, Ned,” he says, hanging up. Right as he clicks the button, his hand shakes violently, the phone slipping from his grasp. With no one around to see, he curls up and lets his emotions wrap around him like a tidal wave.

 

* * *

 

He feels his whole body go stiff. He’s pretty sure he looks like a sheet of paper with wide eyes.

God, how stupid could he be? Trying on the suit with the door open. How stupid. He's stupid. Wasn't he supposed to be smart?

“Peter,” aunt May days slowly, taking a step into the room. Her voice quivers, eyes misting over with unshed tears. “Please tell me this is just a cosplay of some sort.”

Cosplay. Yes, that's a good idea. “May--” and, _ugh!_ He can't lie to her when the truth is right there. She doesn't deserve that. “I was going to tell you.”

May lifts her hand, covering her mouth, eyes glued to the suit. “Oh my god,” she whispers, voice cracking.

Peter himself wants to cry as well. He never wanted his aunt to learn, at least not by accident. He really _was_ going to tell her. Someday. Not today.

Pushing his own feelings away, he takes a deep breath and shuffles forward, hesitantly placing a hand to her shoulder. He can't panic. Not now. “Aunt May, I'm-- I'm sorry. I'll.. I'll answer any question you want, okay?”

A tear slides down her cheek, and she sniffles softly. Shaking her head wordlessly, she crumples forward, arms wrapping tightly around Peter, her forehead resting on his shoulder.

Peter closes his eyes, loosely hugging her back. He doesn't deserve to freak out. Not in front of her.

 

* * *

 

The building shakes. He feels his body stiffen, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up. Slowly, he looks up, the eyes of his suit growing wide. Why is the building shaking? It can't shake. This place is supposed to _safe._

“Hey, pay attention.”

Peter jerkily snaps his eyes forward, gulping. “D-does the..um...does the room...always shake...like that?”

“Only when training gets serious,” Tony replies smoothly, looking over at the other avengers. They're all together again, which is good. They aren't fighting. They all came to terms with everything. Peter isn't exactly sure how it all got resolved, but he's glad it did.

Wanda is the one causing the building to shake, trying to throw Steve to the side. Clint isn't being very careful, either, shooting arrows at the wall as he tries to get the Vision.

Oh no, what if they tear this whole building to the ground? What if it collapses on him? He can't-- the feeling of concrete digging into his skin is still way too fresh in his brain. The taste of murky, disgusting water invades his senses way too quickly

Everything is too loud.

A punch comes from nowhere, sending him reeling to the side. This is practice. This isn't a real fight-- but even so, he can't let this stop him. What if this _was_ a real fight?

He gasps as his legs are kicked from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. The building shakes again. He can hear every single shake, every single shout, hear every kick and punch meet it's target from every inch of the building.

Having enhanced hearing isn't the best.

He tries to get to his feet, tries to land a blow on Natasha, but only a small, pathetic whimper escapes his throat. He's pretty sure the building shakes again.

“Natasha!” A voice snaps, and Peter flinches, cowering as Tony lands in front of him. “What did you do?! This is only training!”

“What? He's taken harder hits before!”

Peter shakily rises to his feet, trying to speak, but as the building shakes again, a squeak escapes his lips. Tony finally fits the pieces together.

“Stop training!” He barks, and almost immediately everyone stops, turning to look at them. Tony mumbles something, and the Iron Man suit opens, allowing him to step out and get close to Peter. “Kid, what's up?”

Peter swallows. He doesn't want to worry them. “I'm--” he chokes out, nervously looking up. “It's not-- going… it's not going to fall, is it?”

“The building?” Steve says, suddenly there. “No, it's stronger then it looks.”

Peter looks down. He's so stupid. “Sorry...I...uh...um. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, kid, but why don't you explain what's going on?”

Peter lifts his head, nervously biting his lip. He...shouldn't bother them with his problems.

“You aren't bothering us,” Wanda says calmly, causing Peter to jump. How did he not notice everyone surrounding him?

Glancing at Tony, he nervously plays with his fingers. “I...may have...had a building fall on me. Before. It's not-- it's not a big deal! Just. I don't. You know. Like, um, yeah. I still...sometimes...have night...nightmares. But, yeah! Nothing to...to worry…”

“What?!” Tony shrieks, causing Peter to flinch. “When did-- what the hell, kid? When did that happen?”

“Um..when...the vulture. Uh.”

Tony sighs, and before Peter can stutter out anything else, he’s pulled into a hug.

“I'm sorry, kid, I should've been there to help.”

“No! It wasn't… I'm…” Did Tony Stark just apologize to him? He must be worse than he thought.

“You're not fine, Peter, and it's okay not to be.” 

Peter exhales shakily, tears welling up in his eyes. Clutching the back of Tony’s shirt, he buries his face into his shoulder and let's himself sob against the billionaire.

**Author's Note:**

> I really tried so I hope this is at least okay! 
> 
> Tumblr: kamala-kates


End file.
